Shifting
by Breath of the Machine
Summary: AU, set some time after high school. Shizuo's POV. Today, Izaya will be learning to drive a stick-shift *hurrhehuuh*. (Spoiler Alert: He's not good at it.) There's lemon in this one! THE KID GLOVES ARE COMING OFF, YOU GUYS! So M for that, and also because I have the cursing disease. Fluff ending, though, because I'm gay like that. :D
1. Chapter 1

**Shifting**

(Breath of the Machine)

I don't own Durarara.

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"You broke three windows."

"Sorry. I know. Sorry."

"The restaurant can't condone that kind of behavior."

"I know. It won't happen again."

"...We're going to have to let you go."

I blinked. The manager leafed through the three pages of paperwork he had in front of him. He didn't want to meet my eyes. I don't know what I'd expected, though. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened; I should have been used to it by now.

I nodded. The manager visibly relaxed and began babbling about how they would need my hat and nametag back, but my mind was already well into next week, when rent was due. In the end I just kept nodding, and when I'd had enough I stood and left the manager in the middle of his sentence, a cigarette already halfway to my mouth. I don't think I ever did give back the hat and nametag.

/

When it had first happened, I'd offered to pay for the damages, and the manager had assured me I would be. He'd told me how much it would cost and I'd almost punched him out of shock. _Who pays that much for WINDOWS?! _

That had landed me at the kitchen table of my dingy studio apartment, tearing my hair out for hours over the prospect of the bill I'd be receiving. Even if I _had_ been able to keep my job, the money would have amounted to four months' salary. I was screwed. _Maybe I could borrow it from Kasu-_

Shit. Kasuka. My little brother had the money, but he also had faith that I wasn't a lost cause. He could NOT find out I'd lost this job, too. I'd already been told I had the "wrong demeanor" for customer service, and I was more "intimidating" than persuasive in sales. Then of course there were the damage-related firings I'd gotten as a fast-food cashier… bartender… crossing guard…. I let my forehead clunk on the table. _Can't do anything right._

Someone knocked on the door. I wasn't expecting anybody, and I was definitely in no mood for company. Or salesmen. There was another knock, louder this time. As if I somehow hadn't heard the first one thunder around my tiny apartment. _Maybe they'll go away._

I went back to the paper I'd been scratching my budget out on. If I didn't smoke this month, I could- no. But maybe if I didn't _eat_ this month? It wouldn't make much of a dent, but it would be something.

The pounding at the door had finally stopped. Apparently whoever it was had decided to fuck off.

Good.

Then there was a bang on the window so loud I jumped a foot in the air.

"Hey~! Open up!"

I recognized that obnoxious voice. I didn't need to look up to know what I'd see: black hair, a smug face, and a jacket that it was WAY too hot out for. Great. The last person I needed around today was this shitty excuse for a human being.

He pressed his face against the pane.

"Shizu-chan, don't pretend you can't hear me! I can see you!"

I walked to the window. He smirked and gave a little wave. I flipped him the bird and dropped the blinds.

"Oh, what, you're too good to hang out with me now that your brother's a movie star?"

I sat back down, determined to ignore him. But when no sound came from the window for five minutes, the silence started blaring in my head. _Did he actually leave…?_

The voice was right behind me. "Leaving your guests standing outside is just rude."

I shot up so fast I knocked the chair across the kitchen. "HOW THE HELL?!"

"Your lock is shit, like everything else you- "

He never finished the thought, because the next second my hand was around his throat. I dragged him to the wall and slammed his head against it. _Come into MY house? Insult MY things? _I raised my fist. The crazy fucker started laughing. All of my rage went into that single blow, shifting at the last instant to smash a gaping hole in the drywall, half an inch from his face.

"GET. OUT."

He wrenched his head to the side to look at the hole. He seemed amused.

"…Something eating at you, champ?"

/

My attitude toward Izaya was complicated.

We'd gone through school together (at least, all high school and whatever college I'd muddled through before I lost the athletic scholarship), and I could safely say he was the worst person in the world. On average. But he didn't give a shit. That's what really pissed me off about him- he just danced around fucking up other people's days, knew it, and blatantly did nothing to change it.

He was also the biggest creep I knew. He got a kick out of telling everyone I'd cozied up to him at Shinra's over-boozy birthday party a couple months ago. Not that anyone believed him. He only said it to try and piss me off. I've been drunk before, but even in a blackout state I'd have remembered doing something that awful, stopped, and promptly thrown myself off the roof.

What I DO remember from that night is waking up the next morning in my bed with a brain-splitting hangover, buried in about a hundred socks that I'd never seen before.

That's vodka for you.

Unfortunately, Izaya was also a friend of a friend. Which meant two things.

First, it meant that any time I tried to get together with the handful of people who didn't get shifty eyes and bolt whenever I came around, it came at the price of an excruciating extra guest.

It also meant that, out of concern for my well-being as much as Izaya's, I'd been asked to do my best not to commit murder. Which was easier said than done when it came to this flea, as evidenced by the new decor of my kitchen wall.

But that wasn't fair. Even if he deserved to get socked in the face, it wasn't his fault I'd gotten fired.

_This_ time.

I sat at the table with a glass of milk while he leaned against the stove and listened to me mutter something about a horrible customer putting me out of a job, about how it was just bad timing, about how he should learn to stay out of people's homes and be less disgusting in general.

"I've got a job you," he chirped when I'd finished.

I was careful not to respond at all, because I wasn't completely sure he wasn't making some kind of nasty joke. He noticed my pause and snorted.

"No, I'm serious, it's actually the reason I came by. I just got this car- a Maserati GranTurismo. But it only comes with a manual transmission, and I don't know how to drive stick. Neither does Shinra."

I didn't know exactly what the car looked like, but I knew what "Maserati" meant. It meant he'd just gone and bought a car that cost more than my whole life. Asshole.

"Then I remembered: Shizu-chan's crappy pickup is a stick-shift because it's ancient!"

My grip fractured the milk glass.

"So- you can teach me, and if you're not a total disaster, I'll pay you. Sounds great, yeah~?"

This guy. He got his money from God knows where, but I knew he had a lot of it. Obviously. And if I wanted to survive this month's rent without seeing a disappointed non-expression my brother's face, my options were pretty limited. But I hated it. _Hated _it. This prick gave off this sleazy impression that even when he was helping you, he was screwing you over.

I sighed. "Convertible?"

"No, coupe! Do I_ look_ like a half-bald sixty year-old to you, Shizu-chan? Definitely a coupe."

/

He'd had the car delivered to his house, because of course he had. The bright white of the body momentarily blinded me in the afternoon sun. From what I could tell, though, it _was _a good-looking vehicle. Very sleek.

"There are some back roads if we go east from here, not too much traffic." Izaya jingled his keys and hopped cheerily over to the driver's side, popping open the door. "Shall we?"

I reluctantly dropped the cigarette I'd started on our way over and crushed it with my foot as slowly as possible. This was going to be like hours of having teeth pulled. _Maybe I should revisit the not-eating plan. Starving might be preferable to this._

Izaya put his elbow on the roof of the car and rested his chin in his hand. "You act like you're not looking forward to spending the afternoon with me."

"That's because I'm not."

"Don't lie, Shizu-chan. I know you think I have nice eyes."

"I really don't."

He snickered and swung himself down into the seat. Gritting my teeth, I slid into the passenger side. The upholstery was so new that I felt like I should touch as little of it as possible, but considering how tall I was in that cramped space, that wasn't going to happen.

The little tick was bouncing in his seat like it was Christmas Eve.

"You know which pedals are which?" I asked.

He pointed in succession. "Clutch, brake, gas." He looked back up at me expectantly. "Ready?"

"Take off the parking brake."

"Right! So now we're ready?"

"No." I reached over and put the shifter into neutral. I nodded. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine growled to life immediately. It sounded smooth, nothing like my clunky truck. Izaya hadn't exactly been lying when he'd called my pickup ancient, but he was a bastard for saying it anyway. And now I was helping him learn to drive.

_Let the hell-trip begin. _"Push down on the clutch, then put it into first."

He obeyed, squinting a moment to see which position was first gear.

"Okay, now push the gas pedal, and at the same time let off the clutch."

He lifted off the clutch like it had burned him, and the car immediately stalled.

"…Not that fast."

Izaya frowned. "You didn't tell me that."

I shifted back to neutral and had him start up and shift to first again. "Alright, now gas, and _slowly_ let off the clutch."

He didn't seem to move. I could hear the engine revving louder.

"I said let off the clutch!"

He did, and the car shot forward, both of our heads snapping back from the force. He hit the brakes immediately.

"...Not that slow."

I put the shifter in neutral again. Izaya's expression was turning sour.

This was going well.

I buckled my seatbelt.

/


	2. Chapter 2

(If you were already following this story prior to 4/25, you'll want to backtrack to chap 1 and make sure you've gotten to read the little scene I tacked on to the end there before you start reading here. Thanks, gang!)

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/

An hour in, he was showing marginal progress. Not that he wasn't stalling at every stop, lurching with every gear change, and grinding up the inner workings of his very expensive car. "Progress" meant that we had gotten out of the driveway.

Currently, we were stalled at a stop light, with two cars honking behind us. One time in high school, I'd kicked a set of aluminum bleachers at Izaya that knocked him into the gym's lap pool. That hadn't flustered him as much as this did.

The engine was screaming. He jumped off the clutch and the car jerked and stalled again. People started driving around us.

"I told you you have to feel for it and let off slow!" I chided.

"Why don't _YOU_ do it, then?" he huffed, beyond frustrated. "You're a terrible teacher, Shizu-chan." He threw open the door in the middle of traffic and proceeded to my side of the car. I was tempted to just leave him there, stranded in the middle of the street, but I reminded myself that I had already wasted a good chunk of my afternoon for this money.

…Money I'd get for driving a Maserati.

I won't deny that just being in the driver's seat lightened my mood a little, but as I started up I heard Izaya bitching, "I should have just gone to someone who knows what they're doing."

_Oh, HELL no._

Once we'd moved out of the intersection, the car handled like it had been waiting for me. I flew through the first few gears seamlessly, and I could practically hear Izaya pouting louder beside me. Once I switched to fifth, though, he started to tense up.

"The speed limit's 55."

I was going to feel cheated, going back to my truck after this. I accelerated, switching to sixth as the trees and sparse houses zipped by instantly. I noticed my driving companion's voice rise about an octave.

"Shizu-chan, you're gonna get us pulled over!"

A little old man was in front of us, driving like he had a lot more time left than he did. Coming our way on the other side of the road was a semi truck. I grinned maniacally inside. I sped up and crossed into the opposite lane, passing the old man and swerving back to our side quickly before the semi came tearing by, the sound of its horn deafening us. Izaya's knuckles were white and embedded in the dash.

"JESUS! STOP IT!"

I threw the shifter into neutral and hit the brakes. The tires screeched for a long stretch until we skidded to a halt, flinging us both back hard in our seats. The smell of burning rubber was immediate. Izaya's eyes were the size of planets, his face white. After a few seconds, he started breathing again.

"You ASSHOLE!" he screamed. He slugged me in the arm as hard as he could, but it didn't hurt me much.

I had to fight to contain the sadistic joy I felt at seeing him lose his shit. I turned slowly to look at him, my face completely blank.

He stared at me. The corner of his mouth twitched, then twisted in a ridiculous way as he tried not to laugh. He didn't last long.

He burst out in a hysterical fit at my expression, at himself, at the giddy relief of not being dead. It went on way too long, which made me laugh a little, too. The guy was crazy.

"You are an _ass_hole," he finally conceded, wiping his eyes. "Alright. You win, Shizu-sensei. I'll pay attention."

He had this smile stuck on his face- instead of a scummy bag of corruption, it made him look like a real person. It threw me. Like leaning back too far in a chair.

/

We drove without much purpose after that, switching off now and then. Izaya improved a bit, though when we got to the tricky mountain roads he surrendered the wheel**.** I had no complaints. By the time I pulled off the road to relieve myself, the sky was just turning dark.

I picked my way back to the Maserati from a thicket of trees. The sporty car looked out of place next to all the pines and rock slide fences. Izaya had gotten out of the car, too, probably to stretch his legs. He was lying on his back in the grass, studying the stars that had just started to appear.

"Some of these stars are dead already," he said. "They're just so many light-years away that we're still seeing their light from years earlier."

"I don't care." I sat on the ground nearby.

"I wasn't asking you to care."

"Whether they're dead or not, we can see 'em now, right? It doesn't matter what happened a billion miles away."

He scoffed. "That's so like you, Shizu-chan."

I grunted, not sure how I was supposed to take that. We stayed silent for awhile, taking in the night air before it turned cold. Lights in the city below us were flickering on, and I considered how perfect a smoke would be right now. Beside me, Izaya chuckled to himself, rubbed his eyes. "I still can't believe you bought thirty pairs of socks…."

"…What?"

"At Shinra's party." He twisted his head to look at me upside-down. "You seriously don't remember?"

I scowled at him.

He sighed. "You at least remember winning beer pong with Dotachin, right?"

"Yeah."

"And then all the shots you idiots did to celebrate?"

"...Vaguely."

"Well, after that, you grabbed my face and told me you liked my eyes, and I kind of laughed at you and said I thought you'd had enough to drink-"

"I didn't do that, shut the hell up."

He ignored me. "Then I was walking your sorry self home and you kept telling me to come stay the night at your place, so I made up some story about how I couldn't stay over because my feet get cold if I'm not in my own bed."

_…Wait. _

"You said something stupid like if you bought me enough socks to keep me warm I'd have no excuse. So you stopped and bought a whole shelf of them." He laughed. My blood turned to ice. Then the reason I had all those socks….

_No way._

"You were SO drunk. All hands! You made the other people at the store very uncomfortable." He grinned mischievously.

_No FUCKING way._

"Of course, I still didn't go with you after you bought them."

He went silent then. So was I. My brain was stuck on a loop, and I couldn't process anything. I wanted to tell myself he'd lied and made the whole thing up, but I had a stronger feeling he hadn't, which mortified me. It was like I'd been sucker-punched. He started to speak, then stopped, fiddling with a blade of grass. He tried again, but softly, like he almost hoped I wouldn't hear him.

"…Should I have?"

His attention was fixed resolutely on the grass blade as he said it. My stomach flipped. Somewhere in my head, I was thinking that he couldn't mean what I thought he meant. When I said nothing, his eyes flicked up to meet mine.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I sat there, staring stupidly.

Izaya propped himself up on his elbows.

I knew I should be doing _something_, but my brain wasn't cooperating. Every thought I tried to form was hazy. I watched as he started closing the distance between us. I felt like maybe this was happening to someone else, and I was seeing it play out in front of me.

He hesitated, inches away. He searched my face, still not sure if I was angry, waiting for some sign. Close up, his eyes were an unnerving color. Like bloodstains.

I had a brief thought that maybe he was just fucking with me.

Then there were lips on mine. And I had no more thoughts about anything.

He moved cautiously, sucking gently on my lower lip, and I moved closer out of reflex. A tentative hand settled on my shoulder. I felt teeth. My head was buzzing by the time the tip of a tongue touched mine. He adjusted, his knee brushing up the inside of my thigh.

I jolted.

Pulled away.

Izaya looked startled, and a little dazed.

Abruptly, I stood and made a beeline for the car. I crossed my arms on the roof, put my head down. Tried to slow my breathing.

He didn't say anything. Nothing moved for what felt like years. Every organ I had was twisted in a knot, and I was patchily trying to stop myself from acknowledging the past ten minutes. _Nothing happened. _I pressed my forehead to the cold metal. _Nothing happened._

A chill breezed over the mountain road; the temperature was starting to drop. I didn't want to look up. Ever. But I did. Izaya was still sitting where I'd left him, staring silently out at the night.

Sensing my movement, he bowed his head and chuckled. "That was stupid. Sorry."

I ran a hand through my hair, tried to think of what I should say. But there was nothing _to_ say. I determined to let it be as easy as that.

"We should head back," I said.

He nodded robotically, his unfocused gaze still on the city lights.

/

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(It's not over, the lemons are still growing. Making you work for it, I guess, lol. There will be one more chap, but reviews are welcome any time!)


	3. Chapter 3

_(Aayyyy, let's go ahead and bump that rating up one more…. )_

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/

We'd already driven three miles before I realized I'd never gotten my smoke.

We had slumped in and resigned ourselves to watching the road in front of us in uneasy silence. Izaya had picked up his jacket from the floor where he'd left it earlier and was fidgeting with the fur lining. The tension was making me sick. _What the hell WAS that? _

I wanted to go back in time- to undo the last hour, the whole day, hell, all the way back to the night of that stupid party.

But mostly, I just wanted the uncomfortable crowding in my jeans to go away. _Damn thing has no allegiance._ I had to stop myself from wondering if Izaya was in a similar state.

He was trying lamely to segue into his normal babbling.

"So, Shinra wants to do his thesis on the hypothetical effects of surgery on a grim reaper. A _grim reaper, _for God's sake!" he chuckled lowly. "I've told him that no reputable establishment is going to accept a medical essay about fairy-tale creatures, but he absolutely _insists_ on it! Can you believe it? The idiot will never get his medical license. It's screwy, right?"

"Shut up," I grumbled automatically.

And for what was probably the first time in his entire life, he did. Somehow, that made me feel worse.

It looked like wouldn't be able to skate over this, after all.

Izaya pressed his head to the window in a gloomy, self-deprecating way. I'd never seen him so devoid of spirit before, and I was the reason for it.

It was all wrong.

My subconscious kept prodding:_ he wasn't bad at it. Not even a little._

If I didn't get a cigarette soon, I was going to drive off the side of the mountain.

/

I pulled off the road without warning, which startled Izaya, and parked in front of an overlook.

I lurched out of the car, fishing my pack and lighter out of my shirt pocket. I stood at the edge of the landing. The city was still a long way down. I lit up and drew the much-needed nicotine into my lungs, hoping it would clear my head.

Focus wasn't coming easy. Something had shifted in our dynamic. We were different people in this moment, and I had an irrational thought that we would change back again if we reached the bottom of the mountain.

I touched my shoulder where his hand had been. _Tch. _Sneaky, shameless, out-of-his-skull Izaya. It was _his _fault. He should never have put us in this situation.

…So why did I feel like _I_ was the one who'd screwed up?

Clearly, this conversation was not finished.

Before I could decide on another course of action, I marched to the car and threw open the driver side door. For his part, Izaya was watching me from across the seat with a mixture of interest and apprehension.

I leaned on the frame, ducking to look at him. "Get out of the car."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I think you're going to kill me."

I took a drag off the cigarette, let it out slow. "I won't."

He regarded me warily. I didn't move, just let him size me up, tapped some ash off onto the ground. A moment later there came the pop of the handle and he crawled out.

He walked around front and leaned sheepishly against the grill, half-sitting on the car. He watched from the corner of his eye as I sauntered over and joined him. Neither of us spoke. It was strangely empowering, the sight of Izaya so visibly on edge. He cleared his throat but didn't say anything. His shoulders were stuck in a defensive shrug, and he was eyeing the cliff in front of us like he didn't completely trust me not to throw him off it.

What _was _I going to do, anyway? Apologize?

I watched as he kicked a rock up out of the dirt.

The involuntary memory of his knee sliding up my leg flashed in front of me.

I felt my face heating up.

Eager to break the silence, Izaya blurted out, "Shizu-ch- listen, you don't need to teach me anything more. I've got the basics now, I can figure it out." He laughed shallowly, added, "I'm a genius, after all!"

He was trying to dig his way out, and we both knew it. I gritted my teeth. _This isn't what I want to hear, shut up…. _I watched his chattering mouth move and felt an echo of his teeth on my lip.

"But don't you fret~! I'll still pay you whatever you need for today, it's fine-"

_Shut up._

My hand moved on its own. It landed on his zipper.

He choked. I was a little surprised at myself, too. I'd sort of meant to hit the car.

Izaya sat like an alarmed-looking statue. It was like my touch had petrified his entire body. I could see his every muscle go rigid when I let my thumb rub experimentally against the fabric of his pants. He avoided my eyes while he stuttered out, "Wha… what are you doing?"

That was fair. I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing, either. I kept my hand moving, mostly out of a base curiosity. He twitched, still refusing to look at me.

All I had to do was touch him, and I could throw him completely off his game. _So, the puppeteer has strings, too._ I couldn't say I didn't like it.

I started palming him. He was so tense and still that I thought maybe I should stop. Then he huffed and closed his eyes. He hid his face in my shoulder, like he was trying to hold it all together. His heartbeat was violent, pressed to my arm through his chest. Even through his clothes, I could feel how hard he was getting. His fists clenched in their deliberate place on the car.

He lifted his head with a breathy "wait" and rolled off the car to face me, one leg resting between mine as he fumbled with my belt buckle. His fingers were frantic, as if even one second of delay would destroy the illusion we'd wandered into. He was shaking his head about something- the belt, or more probably me.

Yanking on the belt jerked my hips forward, our foreheads almost touching. His thigh brushed against the hardness between my legs, making us both inhale sharply. Izaya's mouth tightened in concentration. He slid his hand under my waistband and took hold of me, and my brain started shorting out. His touch was burning. He looked up at me, those disturbingly dark red eyes half-lidded. I read in them that I was being toyed with. That they were eating me alive.

Izaya must've seen something in my expression that he recognized as panic, because before I could bolt, he'd dropped to his knees in front of me. He didn't wait for my protest, just tugged my jeans down, parted his lips, and engulfed me in one quick motion.

It was too much. For a second, I got lost. I think I made a sound, but I couldn't hear it over the waves roaring in my head.

_Holy hell_.

My hands embedded themselves in his short hair. As he worked his way up my shaft, I unconsciously pushed him further. _I need more, now_. He hummed in objection, the vibration shooting straight up my spine. I couldn't help thrusting deeper into that wet heat. He hummed again and fought to pull his head back. I reluctantly let go and he glared up at me, panting, the beginnings of sweat causing his shirt to stick to his chest . He tore it off over his head impatiently and put a hand forcibly against my hip bone, keeping me in place.

He continued his task with a punishingly hard suck, and I heard myself groan as my knees buckled. I planted my fists heavily on the car hood, frustrated with the hand that was stopping me from moving.

Izaya's other hand had strayed into his own pants. That thought alone made staying put much harder.

He had made it almost to the base and was teasing me now, running his tongue against the underside as he moved lazily up and down. _He's keeping me in agony on purpose, the little shit._ I jolted, feeling the light scrape of his teeth. I felt heat build up in the pit of my stomach, and I knew I was close. As if reading my mind, Izaya sped up his movements.

And then he stopped. His mouth and the amazing sensations it was giving me were gone. I felt betrayed at the sudden loss and was about to berate Izaya when I saw the cause of his distraction.

Lost in my own haze, I had failed to notice he was no longer stroking himself; those fingers had gotten bold and slipped inside of him. I realized the meaning of his harsh breathing, his eyes shut tight, his form curling in on itself. I watched those final moments, hypnotized, drinking in the obscene display. By the time he'd stopped shuddering, he was on all fours, eyes open and glazed over at nothing. Perspiration shone on his temple. He glanced vaguely up at me, still catching his breath. An embarrassed flush rose brightly in his cheeks, like he'd forgotten momentarily that I could see him.

And suddenly I knew exactly what I wanted.

The Maserati creaked when I tossed Izaya's slim body onto the hood. He cried out and immediately arched when his bare back came in contact with the residual heat from the engine.

I didn't hesitate this time, crawling on top of him and crushing my mouth to his. He either got used to the hot metal remarkably quickly or stopped caring, because now our teeth were clashing and he was tearing blindly at the buttons of my shirt.

I withdrew long enough to rip off the offending clothing, along with Izaya's pants, which evoked a yelp from him. He scowled at me and kicked off his shoes. He was half-hard already. I climbed back to hover over him, and he took the opportunity to trace a finger, feather-light, over the scar he'd put on my chest in a high school fight. First impressions. He studied me, unafraid, silently asking what my next move would be. A breeze rolled across the car and he shivered.

I wanted to dominate this strange, unguarded thing in front of me so badly that I forgot everything around us. I didn't feel the cold. I didn't hear the wind. I only saw wiry legs as I pressed them against a pale chest. I began to push myself inside him at what I thought was an excruciatingly slow rate, but he still groaned in pain, letting his head thunk against the metal.

Right then, I didn't care. The feeling was so incredible, I almost lost it. I could pretend I wasn't hurting him if it meant I could have more of that tight, raw heat wrapped around me. I sunk further in, and he gave a shout so loud that I thought for sure he was going to kick me. But instead he just froze, teeth clenched, his fingertips digging into my arms.

He looked so uncomfortable. Guilt started to creep into my gut. I moved to pull out and he gasped, his eyes snapping open. I stopped, feeling him clench around me. Unsure, I pushed forward tentatively and was met with a whine as he bucked up to meet me. I felt his hands travel up and twist in my hair.

I kept thrusting, trying to hit that same spot. I knew I'd done it right when he let out a lascivious moan that made everything in me throb. I picked up my pace, the friction driving all sane thought out of my head as the car rocked beneath us. Looking for a bigger reaction, I hastily grasped his untended erection, pumping him in time with my thrusts.

He made a sound midway to a sob, his eyes rolling back under closing lids. His brow furrowed and I felt ankles lock around my waist, pulling me closer, pulling me deeper. I felt my hips grind against his ass and groaned, immobilized by the feeling of being completely sheathed. My mouth rested on his jutting collarbone, and I inhaled deeply. He smelled like soap and the grass he'd been lying in. One of his hands crept down to play absently with my nipple, sending a sharp, pleasant sting to my brain. _Impatient, huh?_

I bit down viciously.

He keened and mumbled something that was either my name or a curse. I pulled almost completely out of him, then rammed back in, burying myself to the hilt, forcing a whimper from him. I set a vigorous pace, pounding into him so ruthlessly that I could tell he was losing his breath. He looked up at me through dark bangs, his lost eyes shining. My chest tightened. He looked so desperate I thought he might cry. Instead, he grabbed the back of my neck and latched onto my lip hard enough to draw blood. I responded by sucking his tongue into my mouth, stealing all the small sounds he was making. My thrusts became uneven as we both neared our peak, his unintelligible pleas drowned out in my throat. His fingers scrambled at the car, looking for purchase. But there was nothing to hold onto, so he held onto me instead.

His cry cut sharply through the trees around us, and I followed, my vision freckled with black stars. The heels digging into my back enough to bruise were easy to ignore with him clamping down so tightly around me. It was impossible euphoria. I felt myself filling him, felt him spasming against me, felt the little crescent moon marks his nails had left in my skin. My mind was a disaster, and the only coherent thing I could pull from the wreckage was the bliss written on his face.

We came to a still, both panting shakily as we waited for our heads to stop buzzing. Izaya's breath hitched when I rolled off and out of him, lying next to him on the hood. The sweat on my body started to cool, and I wondered faintly what time it was without really caring.

I turned my head to Izaya. He was staring out into space with the same glazed-over eyes I'd seen earlier. I shivered. Not from the cold.

"Hey."

I waited until he'd focused his bleary gaze on me before I finished,

"You have nice eyes."

His glare was playful disdain. "Oh, fuck you," he laughed hoarsely, giving me a weak punch to the chest.

/

After a comment about me making a terribly inappropriate hood ornament if I froze, we gathered our clothes and dressed again. Izaya had decided to forego his underwear but was still having trouble finding one of his shoes by the faint moonlight.

I sat on the ground with my back to the headlight of the car, elbows propped on my knees, taking out a cigarette while I waited for him. I brought the filter to my mouth and winced. I tapped my lip where Izaya had attacked it, and my fingertip came away with a spot of red.

The pest in question swept around the side of the car toward me, triumphantly waving his shoe.

"Found it~!"

I held up my finger. "Look at that. You little blood-sucker."

He plopped down next to me, immediately cringing as he landed on his sore backside. "Ah- you're worse than I am, Shizu-chan," he taunted, pulling down his shirt collar to flash the angry red bite mark on his skin. He smirked, "Besides, you only did any of this because you like my car."

I snorted. I held my lighter to the cigarette and pulled the smoke in through my teeth.

Izaya sighed. He leaned his head sleepily against the grill of the Maserati, his bony shoulder in my side. Thinking about nothing, or maybe a little bit about everything. But the smile was there again. The one that put me off-balance. He looked content.

The day had started out so badly. I might have still been stuck at my kitchen table, replaying all the jobs I'd lost, paralyzed at the idea of not having a future. There were so many people, so sure that I couldn't be what they wanted. And now, here, they couldn't have mattered less.

Izaya had dozed off, his breathing soft on my arm.

For the first time, I felt like I could be anything.

\\\\\

* * *

I know exactly what everyone is thinking after all this porn and fluff- you're thinking "But a GranTurismo doesn't use manual transmission!" I know WELL IT'S TOO LATE YOU READ THE WHOLE THING SHUT UP CAR SNOBS IT'S FANFICTION I CAN HAVE DREAMS HERE

The lemons grew out of control, you guys. I dk what happened.

The chapters went from like 0 to 60.

(OH GOD CAR JOKES, STAHP)

Let's be real, though: since I don't make money off fan fiction, reviews are like coins in my tin cup. So… please? I promise I won't spend them on booze!


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